


Rescue Mission

by romanticalgirl



Category: British Actor RPF, Hornblower RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-01
Packaged: 2017-12-05 00:08:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/716620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks to <a href="http://nolivingman.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://nolivingman.livejournal.com/"></a><b>nolivingman</b> for the beta!</p><p>Originally posted 9-20-06</p>
    </blockquote>





	Rescue Mission

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://nolivingman.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://nolivingman.livejournal.com/)**nolivingman** for the beta!
> 
> Originally posted 9-20-06

Ioan shoved his hands into his pockets and rocked up onto the balls of his feet. He felt rushed and worried and nervous, though all of those emotions took a back seat to the frustrated anger boiling beneath his skin.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wondering what to say, his mind running through the telephone call he’d received the night before in LA.

**

_  
“Ioan? It’s Sam. Sam West?”_

_“Sam!” He’d smiled in delight. “God, it’s been ages.”_

_“It has. Look, Ioan, there’s a reason I’m calling.”_

_“Oh?” Something had warned him – Sam’s voice, the long awkward pause – “Sam?”_

_“It’s Jamie.”_

_His stomach had lurched hard at the words, hot tears flooding his eyes. “”What…” He’d forced himself to swallow, sound normal. “What about Jamie?”_

_“Well, I ran into him last night at a pub, and…” Sam had paused. “He didn’t…I know you guys are friends, and…”_

_“Please.” He’d barely recognized his own voice. “Tell me.”_

_“He’s not happy, Ioan. Not…not Jamie. Not himself.”_

_“Okay.” He’d bit his lower lip. “What…?”_

_“Have you talked to him lately?”_

_Talked. Laughed. Teased. And knew. Damn it. He’d **known**. “No. Not…did he say…”_

_“He mentioned his show.” Sam had cleared his throat. “I know it’s absolutely none of my business, and I’m not…I think he needs a friend, and I didn’t…”_

_“Don’t worry, Sam.” Ioan had managed to get the words out, though they’d stuck in his throat. “Thank you for letting me know. I’ll…I’ll give him a call.”_

_“All right.” Sam had sighed. “I’ve never seen him like this, Ioan.”_

_“I’ll…thanks, Sam. I’ll take care of it.” He’d hung up and taken a deep breath, closing his eyes before opening his phone again and booking the next flight out.  
_

**

Swallowing hard again, Ioan pulled his hand out of his pocket and rested it against the door. “Just knock, you stupid wanker,” he urged himself, but his hand lay still for a long moment. He was about to shove it back in his pocket, when voices drifted down the hall, laughter growing closer. He knocked then and stepped back, waiting.

Jamie opened the door and Ioan remembered to breathe, tried to start his heart. Sam’s description was generous – Jamie didn’t look bad. He looked worn, exhausted, pained. “I told you, I…” He stopped, his voice fading to nothing but a whisper. “Ioan.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Surprise.”

Jamie nodded in response and swallowed as well, surprise obviously not coming close to covering it. “Hello.”

“Can I…can I come in? Or were you…” He gestured back toward the hall. “Expecting someone?”

“No. The neighbors. They keep inviting me over.”

“Not up for a party?”

“No.” Jamie shook his head and moved away, backing away from the door. “Come in.”

“Thanks.” He reached down for his bag as Jamie did the same. Exhaling shakily as their hands touched, Ioan shifted his grip away from Jamie’s, holding tight to the strap. He moved past him, the bag between them as he walked into the lounge. It was hard not to think that Napoleon would have had a warmer reception from King George. “I love what you’ve done with the place.”

The décor was roughly trashed, bottles and pizza boxes littered everywhere. It was more than enough for Ioan. Jamie had looked bad before - he worked too hard, he worked too much – but Jamie was always tidy. And he didn’t eat crap takeaway unless he was seriously depressed.

Jamie watched him look around, his body tensed for something – a confrontation, a fight – so Ioan ignored the mess and shunted his bag toward the hall before perching on a stool beside the kitchen counter.

“I fly here all the way from Los Angeles, and you don’t even offer me a drink?”

There was a ghost of a smile that Ioan counted as a triumph. He knew Jamie well though, and he knew they were nowhere near done. “What do you want?”

“That, my dear Mr. Bamber, is a loaded question.”

“Every question with you is a loaded one, Ioan.” He smiled again, in earnest this time, and Ioan grinned in return. “What would you like to drink?”

“I’ll guess from the look of the place that anything alcoholic is likely to be on the menu.” He slid his hand along the edge of the counter. “Surprise me.”

Jamie’s face fell and the slight hint of relaxation tightened and Ioan sighed under his breath. _Too soon_. “You want a beer then?”

“Yeah. That’d be fine.” He watched Jamie as he rounded the counter, moving into the kitchen. The sink was relatively empty, which made sense given the empty curry and pizza boxes and plastic takeaway forks. “You’ve lost weight.”

“They’ve got us on a work out regimen for the show.” He pulled two beers out of the fridge – from Ioan’s viewpoint, empty save the beer – and opened them, setting one in front of Ioan. “So, it’s not so much lost as turned into muscle.”

“Oh.” He was unable to keep from smiling at the thought, though nothing about his visit so far gave him any indication that he’d likely see the results. “Mum’s taped it all for me, but I’ve not seen…”

“Don’t bother.” Jamie drank half his beer in one go. “It’s shite.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“I’ve seen it. You haven’t. It’s shite.”

“All right.” Ioan sipped his beer and dropped his eyes, his thumb stroking the neck of the bottle as he watched Jamie shove his hand in his pocket, watched the fabric shift as his hand balled into a fist.

“So.”

He looked up, meeting Jamie’s eyes. There was something he didn’t recognize in the so familiar blue. Ioan lifted his bottle and took a drink, swallowing hard before setting it down then swallowing hard again. “So.”

“What brings you here from LA?” There was a smirk curving Jamie’s lips as he finished his beer, leaving Ioan to wonder how many more ahead of him Jamie was. “Just a whim?”

“No.” Ioan stared at his bottle then lifted it, draining a good portion. “Not a whim.”

“No?” Jamie’s eyebrow went up in a joke Ioan wasn’t sure he was privy to.

“No.” This was the moment of truth, and Ioan wasn’t sure he was up to it, up to the lie. “I missed you.”

“That amounts to a whim, Ioan.” His hand relaxed, he relaxed, though his eyes remained wary. “But it’s not a whim?”

“I…” He took a drink and stroked the bottle’s neck, breaking Jamie’s gaze. “I’m having a bit of a crisis.”

“Are you?” Jamie’s voice was laced with sarcasm, but underneath there was the soft hint of a caress. Ioan bit his lower lip and bent his head as pain curled in his stomach, as he nodded.

“Existential, of course.”

“Are there any other kind where you’re concerned?”

The sarcasm was gone, and Ioan huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. He finished off his beer. “No. Probably not.” He nodded toward the lounge. “Can we sit?”

“Without hours of cleaning? Not in there.” Jamie grabbed two more beers out of the fridge. “Come on.”

Ioan watched Jamie came around the counter and reached out, stopping Jamie with a hand on his arm as he started for the hall, for the bedroom. “I’d rather work for it.”

Something tightened in Jamie’s face, shuttering his eyes. He set the beers on the counter, breaking Ioan’s light hold. “Right. Of course. Your crisis. Your rules.”

Ioan closed his eyes and sighed softly. “Jamie…”

Jamie ignored him, going back into the kitchen and digging under the sink. He tossed a trash bag at Ioan, setting the half-empty box on the counter between them. Ioan stared at Jamie’s hand on the box, the knuckles white, and swallowed, sliding off his stool and moving to the opposite side of the room.

They worked the room in silence, Jamie with a barely controlled hint of violence beneath his movements. Ioan counted the number of bottles in his head and wondered how long Jamie’d been like this, how long he’d been blind to Jamie’s pain. _No, not blind._ he chastised himself. _You looked right at it and deliberately didn’t see._

They filled three trash bags easily and Jamie set them beside the door. The beers were starting to warm by the time they were done, but there was room on the couch and the chair and the table, so Ioan took one and sat on the couch, leaving more than enough room for Jamie.

Who sat on the chair.

“So.” Jamie took a long drink and offered Ioan half a shrug. “What’s the crisis?”

“I’ve been offered a part in a movie.”

“My God. Anything but that.”

Ioan ignored the sharp sarcasm and exhaled, offering Jamie a smirk of amusement. “But see, here’s the thing. It’s shooting in Ireland.”

“Perhaps I’m a bit dense, Ioan, but I’m failing to see anything resembling a crisis here.”

Ioan watched the darkness deepen in Jamie’s eyes and set his beer down, rubbing his palms against his jeans. “I’ve got a place in LA. Can’t just leave it unattended for three or four months.”

“Hire someone to watch it. Crisis solved.”

“Pilot season’s coming up in LA.” He licked his lips and risked a quick glance at Jamie. “Lots of good stuff.”

“Looking into TV, are you?”

“Jamie, come to LA. You’re miserable here. Solve your crisis and mine in one fell swoop.” He shifted forward on the couch, leaning in toward Jamie. “You can stay at my place, look after things while I’m in Ireland. Hollywood, Jamie. Bright lights. Stars and starlets. You’d like it.”

“ _You_ like it. I’m not like you.” Jamie shook his head. “I’m not Hollywood material, Ioan.”

“Bullshit.” He laughed softly, shaking his head. “No one is _more_ Hollywood material than you. Muscles and good looks and blue eyes and a nice arse. Hollywood would eat you up.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” His eyes told a story Ioan knew by heart and he hung his head, finally nodding. Getting to his feet, he walked over to Jamie slowly, kneeling in front of him. “You’re not like me. You’ll do all right there without needing anyone to be an anchor.” He reached out and took one of Jamie’s hands, threading their fingers together. “But I’ll be there if you want one.”

“This isn’t just some ploy to get me to LA so you can shag me more often is it?”

Ioan managed a smile. “No. But I won’t deny that, as a side benefit, it may have crossed my mind.” He ducked his head, meeting Jamie’s eyes. “I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

“LA’s not going to make me happy, Ioan.”

“But you might find a show there that will. Something that’ll be worthy of your talents.” He leaned in and pressed a soft, quick kiss to the corner of Jamie’s mouth. “And if that doesn’t work, there’s always the shagging, right?”

“You’ll say most anything to get me into bed, won’t you?”

Ioan shook his head, his eyes serious. “If I wanted you in bed, Jamie, I’d just ask. I want you to be happy.”

Jamie looked at him for a long time, his features set hard and immovable until the corner of his mouth curled in a slow smile. “LA.”

Ioan nodded. “LA.”

“Move to LA, live in your house while you’re filming in Ireland.” Jamie reached out, brushing Ioan’s cheek. “I fail to see the increased shagging potential.”

“Well, I’ll admit, it rather sucks for three months, but after that, if you get a show in LA, it goes up exponentially.”

“And if I don’t get anything?”

Ioan turned his face and kissed Jamie’s palm softly. “You’ll still have me. Course, that bit’s a given.” He turned his head back and met Jamie’s eyes before leaning into the soft caress of Jamie’s fingers. “Please? Trade misery in for lifestyles of the rich and famous? Or at least lifestyles of the moderately well-to-do and have a bit of a fanatical website?” Jamie laughed in earnest and Ioan let himself smile. “Is that a yes?”

“That’s an ‘I’ll think about it and let you know in the morning’.” Jamie let his hand slide along Ioan’s cheek down to his mouth, tracing Ioan’s lower lip with his thumb. “I haven’t given you a proper hello.”

“You didn’t seem in the mood for it when I arrived.”

Jamie tugged Ioan’s lip down, opening his mouth slightly. “And now?” He leaned down, his breath warm against Ioan’s lips. “How do I seem now?”

“Very much like you should show me the effects this workout regimen has had on you.”

“Is that how it seems?”

Ioan nodded, eyes closing as Jamie moved in closer. He licked his lips, the brush of his tongue bringing with it a hint of taste of Jamie and he moaned, moving up and moving in, finding Jamie’s mouth with his own. He huffed a soft breath as Jamie opened his mouth, let Ioan’s tongue slide in, slide against him. Raising one hand to the back of Jamie’s neck, Ioan tugged him down off the chair, onto his knees on the floor in front of him. “Jamie?”

Jamie kissed him again, tongues and lips and teeth and soft, muttered groans of pleasure pooling in the back of Ioan’s throat. “You’ll not recognize me,” Jamie whispered against Ioan’s neck, nipping at the skin softly.

“Recognized you with short hair.” Ioan reminded him, reaching up to rub a hand over Jamie’s close-cropped hair. “Not an extension in sight.” He closed his eyes, tilting his head to allow Jamie better access to his neck, laughing softly as the hint of stubble grazed his skin. “Jamie…”

“Probably look like shite,” Jamie murmured against him. “Eating crap for days.”

“Can’t think of a better way to work it off.” His breath caught halfway through as Jamie’s hand slid down his back, tugging his shirt from his jeans to slide his hand beneath. “Can you?”

“I haven’t decided on LA.”

Ioan pulled back, shaking his head as he smiled. “We’re not talking about LA right now, Jamie. We’re talking about the bedroom, which is a lot closer and a lot more relevant.”

“You came all this way to get laid, didn’t you?”

Ioan got to his feet and held a hand down to Jamie. “If I say yes, will you come to bed?” Jamie’s jaw clenched and then relaxed, answering every question Ioan had asked. He’d get LA and he’d get Jamie closer and he’d get this, tonight. “Come on. I want to discover all these new muscles.”

“So long as you don’t neglect any old ones.”

Ioan traced a finger down the front of Jamie’s trousers. “Not old, Jamie. Just a little out of practice.”  



End file.
